I review Deus Ex: Human Revolution after only having recently played it. Needless to say I enjoyed it almost as much as original Bioshock, which is somewhat telling considering Bioshock is in my mind the greatest game last generation.

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The Deus Ex series has always been one of gaming's most intriguing. Ion Storm's breakout first-person shooter cyberpunk experience teetered around all the concepts of the great literary science fiction writers. Now, over a decade since it launched, Eidos Interactive has expanded on any preconceived ideology with an even more harrowingly poignant insight into the morality of technological advancement. Sneaking around the crevices of our mind, Deus Ex: Human Revolution challenges even the most hardened of individuals with often damnable, contentious choices, that force us to continually contemplate the infinite problem of man and machine. Can a game be more than the sum of its parts? If this new iteration of the Deus Ex franchise is anything to go by then the answer is resoundingly affirmative.

Taking place 25 years before the events of the original game, Human Revolution begins by introducing us to alpha-male, monotone Adam Jensen, a security officer for Sariff Industries, a leading biotech company in the heart of Detroit. After reacting to a terrorist attack on the company, Jensen ends up living dead and is given multiple biotech implants and mechanical augmentations. He is now a super-weapon; more than that however, he is a living representation of the next stage of human evolution, a theme that runs right throughout the game. Human Revolution deals with the very ethical dilemma of transhumanism. Is Adam now a man, is he is machine, or is he something else entirely?

Once you have recovered and been let out of the company building, you're immediately immersed in a neon-filled glow that hides the dank, depressing seediness of Detroit. Regular police patrols hint at a state mentality, whilst gangs of mech-enhanced thugs linger in the shadows plotting their next big move. Stopping for a moment and just watching the world Adam Jensen resides in, it's unequivocally 'beautiful' despite likely not adhering to any definition of the word. Perhaps putting an adjective like desperate before beautiful is the best way to portray it en masse. As Jensen moves around the backwater alleyways and slicks in-and-out of crumbling buildings it's very hard not to be affected by the sheer depravity of the world. A beautiful depravity. Yes, we'll go with that.

Jensen dispenses justice wherever he goes. Human Revolution makes a point of giving you the option to kill or subdue. While it doesn't necessarily add anything to the decisions at the end of the game, it does provide much appreciated information regarding the behind-the-scenes of the plot. Questionable individuals and morally-bankrupt millionaires are the subject of a lot of Jensen's focus, and while killing them can be satisfying in and of itself, inevitably you'll let them live in the hope that they provide you with conversation on their intentions and the intentions of others involved in the backstabbery going on.

Human Revolution's mechanics play a big part in getting to targets unnoticed. This is a first-person shooter, but can, if required, be played out entirely as a stealth game. For that reason it has to be commended for its attempts to provide the player with different possible playthroughs. I found that attempting the maniacal gun-slinging approach was so tough that a stealth based walkthrough seemed the preferable route. It's indeed testament to the developers that players have reasonable grounds to choose to run-and-gun or sneak-and-slide given that the balance of other games seeking to do similar things has somewhat failed on average. Finding an open vent to enter the computer room to switch off all security cameras is equally comparable to taking out two or three guards with long range head-shots. Of course, the value of the gameplay in Human Revolution is knowing a balance of both will enable you to get further without suspicions being raised in the long term. Quite a delectable proposition and achievement by all accounts.

Combat itself does remain fairly derivative of past first-person shooters and doesn't break the boundaries but is simplistic and varied enough to be less of an issue, particularly given that combat isn't as important dependent on your style of play. You have the option to carry a whole host of standard weapons, such as pistols, machine guns and rocket launchers, but if diligent enough in your kleptomaniac inspired scrounging of bits and pieces, you can find the occasional interesting piece like a crossbow or the P.E.P.S, an energy based handgun. Nevertheless, despite finding all these weapons scattered throughout the game, holding onto them is a matter of inventory space. As such, you probably won't be able to carry more than three guns at one time unless you upgrade your skill sets to unlock more room.

Guns of course do seem rather useless when fighting some contentious boss fights at various points during the game. Thankfully, the Director's Edition manages to severely remedy many of the problems faced by the player. It's undoubtedly frustrating though when fighting an overpowered machine-gun-wielding Arnold Schwarzenegger lookalike and dying over and over to things that feel beyond your control. Thankfully there is so much more to appreciate throughout.

Unlocking skills and talents is significantly more adventurous than the weapon system. As a mechanically augmented human, bordering on machine, Jensen gets to upgrade when he has a device called a Praxis. Once you've collected enough 'Praxis points' you can effectively build yourself depending on the way you play the game. So, for example, you might start by putting all your points into stealth categories that allow you to see enemies further away on the mini map, control enemy turrets and security drones, or learn higher levels of hacking to crack into secure units and buildings. Alternatively, you could place your points in combat orientated slots that allow more health, less damage done from jumping from a large height or resistance to poisonous gases. It's a greatly well-realised system because it invites the player to invest in specific skills based on how they want to go about the mission.

Despite one of the Praxis options being increased personality to get more information from characters, Jensen himself is, admittedly, a very dull person. Whether or not he was designed as such to replicate the conundrum between man/machine is one thing, but regardless of concept he doesn't exactly ooze charisma, which is somewhat distracting. Yet, when all is said and done this is not a game about characters but rather a concept accentuated by the backstories of the characters. Sure, Jensen might effortlessly lull you to sleep with his mundane tones but undoubtedly his unravelling of his own history serves the greater story as a collective and that's more important than the refined personality of a half-android anyway. So, even if you dislike all the characters in Human Revolution, you have to acknowledge that they all serve the story rather than being typically front and centre like other videogames.

Adam Jensen constantly has dreams of Daedalus and Icarus. Daedalus locked up in a tower, despite being the creator of technological marvels, conspires to escape. He believes he has invented that which will change mankind until the moment his son flies too high and falls to his death. Deus Ex: Human Revolution on the other hand does not fall. By charging the player with recognising the fallacies of mankind and not overlooking the dangers of technological advancement, it soars to this day alongside the very eminent creations of this artistic medium.

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Review Score: 9.2/10 (Xbox 360)

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Jonny is a freelance entertainment journalist and critic. He enjoys long strolls along the beach and picturesque mountainhikes, but only as playable characters in a videogame. Read more of his videogame-infused opinions at pixelsinthemyst

I finally got around to playing and completing Ubisoft's South Park: The Stick of Truth. It wasn't the best game I've ever played but it was certainly one of the best of last year.

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Walking through South Park's quiet little mountain town, it's notable that everything you've ever grown up watching on the television has been crammed onto the screen for us to indulge. From Al Gore's schizophrenic Man-Bear Pig to the Goth kids' battles with conformity, South Park: The Stick of Truth aims and succeeds in bringing the best of the show forward and giving us the ability to interact personally with them. It's incredibly difficult to criticise a game that wants to be derivative in terms of a lot of its own content when the majority of that content makes for a fantastic adaptation between television and videogaming. While the collaborative effort between Matt Stone, Trey Parker and Ubisoft does have some issues with blandness of combat and extreme simplicity of difficulty level, the sheer joy that it will bring to so many fans and non-fans alike is undoubtedly a massive achievement and not one to be scoffed at any time soon.

South Park:The Stick of Truth begins with your character, memorably named Sir Douchebag by one Eric Cartman, moving to South Park under mysterious circumstances. Your parents frequently mention special gifts yet you yourself never question them; seeing as how you're entirely mute you can't anyway. Forced to go outside, make friends and become a little cooler you stumble across Cartman, Butters and co. waging war upon Kyle and Stan's Elven faction, which has supposedly stolen the stick of truth, a weapon that allows the wielder to control the universe. What ensues is a bid to reclaim the stick, all whilst having to deal with an alien abduction, the abortion of Randy Marsh's fake child and Nazi zombies. It's a mouth-watering adventure that serves to highlight the best of the TV series whilst still carving out a decent enough story to keep up hooked until the very end when, unsurprisingly, things get utterly ridiculous.

Unlike television, videogames don't necessarily allow for the greatest progression of multiple characters. Such as it is, many of the kids of South Park get relegated to somewhat secondary status. Kyle and Stan for example no longer claim centre-piece on Matt and Trey's mantelpiece but just serve to enable story progression. The outrageous moments of humour therefore inevitably fall to Cartman, who becomes a somewhat useless mentor along the path to enlightenment. Many see him as the focal point of the show anyway and it does make sense to use him centrally given how he espouses sharp wit and crude jokes on a regular basis. However, for all your interaction with Cartman, it is a mixture of Jimmy and Randy Marsh who completely own their respective time on screen. Jimmy's charm and wordplay make him a suitable addition to the crew, whereas Randy seems to pop up at every moment to reinforce the in-joke of him having to endure various painful insertions by foreign objects.

However, while the humour projected out of the mouths of various people throughout the game is largely amusing, there is no new, underlying social commentary to be found here. That may seem a little incongruous given the simplicity of the story, but it is largely what allows South Park to stand out amidst other similar shows. For many people, this will be a little disappointing and there can be a limit to the amount of times one is exposed to the same fart joke. Nevertheless, it isn't an enduring slight against the game seeing as how so many elements work and the coherency of the story is such that anything extra might be deemed excess fluff.

The Stick of Truth relies heavily on simple gameplay to establish itself as a solid, if somewhat repetitive role-playing game. It utilises a fairly standard method of attacking enemies. Your character, Sir Douchebag, will have access to a ranged, melee or magic attack dependent on the class: Warrior, Mage, Thief or Jew. Whilst all four of these classes involve the potential to use both ranged and melee attacks they are separated by the different types of magic one can use. I played primarily as a warrior and had the option to 'ball-sack kick' an opponent to gross him out for extra damage, charge an opponent to destroy their armour or simply inflict a straight baseball bat shot to the face. Each class inflicts different damage based on their type but largely they remain the same in terms of using specific power points to do large, often crowd control based aggression. You also possess the ability to fart on an opponent in four different manners that do massive damage. This type of combat is not overly inspired and is rather derivative of most RPG games, but it fits in well enough to the nature of the game.

Where the combat does improve however is in both defence and use of a companion. Defence is largely skill-based which is a nice change from the formulaic nature of attacking. An enemy can also use melee, ranged or special attacks dependent on who they are and your role in preventing your own demise is to block at the opportune moments. It's a really clever idea despite it seeming a touch underwhelming on paper. Even if you're not overly enamoured with Sir Douchebag's role in fights however, companions have a whole host of special attacks that are some of the most flamboyant and brilliantly over-the-top known to any videogame. Particularly impressive are Butters' Professor Chaos' random attacks in which he takes the form of everyone's favourite secret villain in Anime-drawn style, dealing out mass damage. Even more splendid to see is Kenny's Unicorn attack where a beautiful, white-maned creature comes hurdling over hill and dale, picking him up and obliterating everyone in a line. Of course, given that this is Kenny we're talking about he can always succumb to his own death, the unicorn occasionally spearing him through the gut and killing him instantly.

Having the optimal weapon or piece of equipment does increase your chances of success in The Stick of Truth, moreso than most games. Perhaps this makes it a touch on the easy side when fighting but finding an Alien Probe to wack an enemy on the head with is most welcome and modifying it with a host of abilities makes crafting an intriguing prospect. This also lends to the idea of collectibles throughout South Park. Alongside trying to collect all the equipment, there's also a nice touch in giving the player the opportunity to find and collect all the 'Chinpokomon' on the map, in reference to the infamous Pokemon related South Park episode of Season 3.

Talking of using the map to collect these various additional extras, Trey and Matt have done a wonderful job in piecing together the stores, houses and places of interest to create a complete South Park for the very first time. It never feels as if somewhere has been stuck next to another for quest points but feels very much like you'd expect. Eclipsing all else may be their incorporation of Canada into the storyline and, in particular, as a location. Walking past the strict Canadian border control that requires you to *gasp* own a passport, you enter an entirely 8-bit pixelated frozen land where the people are overly friendly and the lands are inhabited by deadly wildlife. Not only is it gorgeous but provides a welcome break to intersect the typical graphics of the game, which are naturally identical to the television show.

The one real disappointment comes in the way of censorship. If you reside outside of North America then you'll likely have experienced large segments, involving Randy's extra-terrestrial anal probe and more, that have been unfortunately and frustratingly cut out of the final product. Now, does this hinder the overall game as a collective piece? Well, thankfully no, but it's certainly disappointing for the creators of The Stick of Truth who will no doubt have felt that this unjust overbearing law damages their creative freedoms.

Despite the autocratic censorship, South Park: The Stick of Truth is a compact poop nugget that's as valuable as any gem. It's crass, crude and downright dirty at points, and though it doesn't necessarily allow any allegory to flow in-and-out of the game and can certainly be deemed too easy for experienced RPG players, there's so much to do and see that it really is as close to perfection for a licensed videogame.

Much like Sir Douchebag's adventures inside Mr. Slave's derrière, we're plunged into a world full of crassness and crudity. Unlike the inside of Mr Slave's behind though, there's so much fun here that you'll want to stick around for days.

Plus, Cartman has an endless supply of Cheesy Poofs. God damn those overly-addictive corn based snacks.

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Review Score: 8/10 (Xbox 360)

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Jonny is a freelance entertainment journalist and critic. He enjoys long strolls along the beach and picturesque mountainhikes, but only as playable characters in a videogame. Read more of his videogame-infused opinions at pixelsinthemyst

If one image could launch thousands of angry voices across the gaming community then it’s a picture of a promotional billboard using Felix Kjellberg, better known as PewDiePie, as a source for citation. Dying Light, the latest videogame from Techland released under the banner of YouTube’s most prominent uploader and has since come under enormous scrutiny from critics and public alike. Here is why this has nothing to do with Kjellberg and everything to do with Techland.

Companies in any field regularly pay for advertisements. It’s a given at this point that in order to optimally promote a product, you need an external source to use as recommendation, preferably one that has a large following that will guarantee decent sales. Techland may have reportedly (and it seems incredibly likely) paid. Kjellberg in some capacity to play the game on his channel and therefore promote it through the incredible amount of followers that hang on his every word. The incentive therefore is for a highly popular Youtuber to play a videogame under the supposedly mutualistic understanding that both parties gain something. That is true to a degree, but the sway and slant of the incentive is massively propped to the side of Techland. Kjellberg does not need this game in order to remain relevant and he presumably doesn’t need to be paid to play the game; any game would suffice in the sense that people would watch him play Flappy Bird for days at a time. So, the message is that Techland are paying a prominent member of the online community to then use something he said during a ‘Let’s Play’ to massively increase their income revenue. It’s a shady, slippery slope when you think about the message it sends.

What’s perhaps worse is the idea that they’ve paid for an endorsement and not revealed that they paid for the advertisement that led to it in the first place. That’s a huge ethical issue for any industry and for all the outrage about using a ‘non-legitimate gaming source’ for a quote or using Kjellberg’s name to sell more copies of Dying Light, it’s the inherent ambiguity around their involvement in staging the advertisement through Kjellberg that undermines their entire effort in making this videogame. Your endorsements have to be unbiased. It’s an ethical standard that most outlets would claim to adhere to, whether the case or not. You cannot in this industry use your own resources to ensure that the viability of your product is undoubted. If the industry is to be taken more seriously than it already is then you cannot defecate all over the intrinsic ethical values that any notable industry should be held accountable to. Not just is it a violation of trust between publisher and consumer, but it sets the whole gaming sphere back a notch, especially considering the recent furores surrounding ethical attitudes via the backwater proponents of #GamerGate. On a side note, it is interesting that those spewing vitriol at female journalists like Brianna Wu and Anita Sarkeesian deem this issue less important despite this being an actual factual problem as opposed to a make-believe one, designed as a vague filter to mask obvious sexist intentions.

Techland are at fault naturally, but it is interesting the reaction we've seen regarding the quote itself. Kjellberg is no journalist but he is as much a part of the gaming fabric as anyone else, reviewer, critic, developer or otherwise. In many ways he is a figurehead of the gaming community given the impact he’s had on it. So to use a quote he’s made regarding a specific title is perfectly justifiable as long as the quote doesn’t derive from a similar situation as mentioned. If he chooses to play a game of his own volition then it’s understandable to use the quote in marketing terms; it would be a huge boon for any company looking to promote their work. After all, he has the sway of millions of desperately attached teenagers around the world. He is a gigantic source for the general public to engage with and occupies a space where what he says is valid under the context of where we get our information from. He is doing nothing wrong by making statements regarding a game, because he is not a member of the gaming journalism family and as such has no obligation to remain objective with his views or even for that matter to care whether he’s getting paid for a quotation. It’s the obligation of the company in Techland to inform their audience that this statement has been paid for, because it’s their responsibility as the makers of Dying Light to clarify the relationship between an overwhelmingly positive endorsement, the fact that it comes from a purchased advertisement and that they are obviously coercing people into buying a product unethically.

To all those complaining about PewDiePie commenting on a game he may have been paid to play, you've missed the point. To all those arguing that his comments dictate the decline of gaming journalism as we know it, you've even further missed the point. This is much less about Kjellberg and much more about gaming company ethics. Techland are a company with a direct link to the product whereas by all means Kjellberg is a superstar Youtuber who has no ties to the game and therefore can accept monetary gain to promote a product. He, as an individual not affiliated with the product has that right and whilst some might still call it dubious it’s certainly much lesser of the two evils. Techland bought his services, used his brand and then failed to inform anyone that they essentially bought their own quote in order to better sell their game. This is a really dodgy practice that we need to get rid of before it escalates into anything that seriously damages the integrity of the industry at large.

Most people here are already familiar with Steam Greenlight in some capacity or another. It's a system that allows developers to publish screenshots, news and videos of their game onto the platform with the aim of building a mass consumer base and having said consumer base vote for your game to be uploaded onto Steam. Once up there, it's naturally available for general distribution. Greenlight is now the process that developers must adhere to in order to achieve the honour of having their game specifically highlighted by a knowledgeable PC community, and it works. To be fair to the developers, if they create a game that is obviously exuding creativity and imagination, then oftentimes the game can speak for itself, but most games come off the back of critical consumer feedback and eventual word-of-mouth.

We only need to look at previously released games to understand how important this system actually is. Kentucky Route Zero, Evoland, Surgeon Simulator and Incredipede have all garnered enough attention to be released onto Steam. All of these games has gone on to have amazing success, with the potential percentile profit margin for each game something extraordinary. That Papers, Please was greenlighted is indicative of a system that allows interesting videogames to prosper; melding inherent bleakness with a repetitive depression that resonates with anyone who's held a menial job might not work via console format. Long story short, there's a wealth of titles on Steam Greenlight that are unique, both in their originality and deviation from the norm.

Why Greenlight works so well though, is because it allows for gradual progression. A developer may be looking for instant success, but they'll likely fail in their attempt for monetary gain because it's easy to forget the several steps in-between making a game and selling it. Steam allows devs the opportunity to put forward a concept before having to send off their game. The importance cannot be ignored, as it firmly clarifies for the developer which avenue they need to take, whether their game is fine to send to the next stage, or whether feedback from potential consumers indicates that there are inherent problems. Feedback is necessary in every industry and one of the cornerstones to success, thus the process here can never be overstated.

Whereas it's vital to the creator/s of any particular title, it's incredibly exciting from a consumer's point of view. Plunging into the mass of titles put forward isn't just fun, but genuinely important and it's that melange of aspects that demonstrates the meaningfulness from both the perspective of consumer and developer. The person making the game is attempting to contribute to the changing face of the industry, where our job is to highlight those games which we feel will best accentuate the industry and provide enough credibility through our choices that we highlight positivity for the future as opposed to unjust criticism.

We are allowed in our own small way to dictate the fate of the industry. That's a grand statement to make, but it's true in a sense. Admittedly, it must be said that there are a host of terribly rushed games out there, but our job is to act as some sort of gaming-janitor and dispose of any excess waste that's clogging up the drain.

The games on Greenlight are like a ball pit. Most of them shouldn't be allowed to see the light of day, but for every ten poorly designed games, there's one Sheldon Cooper lurking in that fictitious pit and that's the one we need to be highlighting, allowing it room to breathe. When we do we're not only getting a great game, but emphasising the medium as a whole.

Wandering amidst the snowy peaks and the barren desert plains, fighting dragons, demons and collecting far too much elfroot, Dragon Age: Inquisition cannot be reprimanded for its behemothic scale and size. Nevertheless, this proponent of the game lends itself to the somewhat clichéd, antiquated saying of 'size isn't everything'. Where normally this phrase follows the rudimentary, crass attempts of a 14-year-old's toilet humour it could be quite indicative of the problems that this game both faces and poses. Bioware have indeed sewn up and merged the gameplay fabrics of Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age 2 and made a quite monumental attempt to reduce the repetitive, recycled environments, but, where previous titles had issues they still remained a thriving hub of activity and never felt distant and unattached. Inquisition might make up for Bioware's previous mishaps but there is an ominous, lurking feeling of vacuity. That is to say that despite Dragon Age: Inquisition's quite improbable size it doesn't feel full of anything at all, rather, empty unnatural spaces that detract from the naturalness that should be emanating from every fibre and every corner of the map.

Dragon Age: Inquisition is the third game in the series of games by developer Bioware. They focus primarily on the lands of Ferelden and Orlais. Where Ferelden is a melting pot of different ethnicities and down-and-outs trying to make something of their lives in equally honest and scrupulous fashion, Orlais is a rich man's paradise, where all that matters is reputation and money under the guise of a Renaissance Italy fashioned masquerade ball. Inquisition sees the Divine of these lands, a certified fictional female Pope, murdered seemingly inexplicably at a summit attempting to reconcile many of the factions of the world. The Inquisitor, or occasionally Herald of Andraste, is our protagonist, he or she, dependant on your pre-game choices, being the only surviving member of the summit and now in possession of a strange glowing green hand that can close the rifts in time and space that are bringing in demons and all manner of weird monstrous things. A bit complicated? Well, admittedly, it's an overbearing burden for a new player unaccustomed to the often intensely conceptualised story boards of Bioware. However, what starts off as tricky soon becomes quite understandable once you set off into the sunset with companions in toe.

Commendably, Bioware have gone back to their roots with gameplay mechanics and thankfully so. This was likely conceived as a much more tactical based RPG than another staple franchise of theirs, Mass Effect, so it's good to be given the option of different mechanical options. You can now play in real-time in typical third-person action adventure style, or you can pause the game and design your attacks based around a top-down view of the map and enemy locations. Moreover it's possible to combine the two together to grasp a firmer hand around the somewhat dubious actions of your fellow, playable companions who unfortunately still do desperately frustrating things in real-time fighting like run into the giant orange fireball spat out by a nearby towering dragon. The willingness to cater to two types of player is certainly an admirable quality though and, despite the occasional glitch or malfunction, the system, for the most part, works really quite well.

In order to make the most of the gameplay mechanics, it's practical to possess an invaluable and logical skill-tree and inventory system. One of Dragon Age's strengths has always been that the inventory system never feels like a long slog through the gloopy waters of customisation. This time around the inventory system thrives under the tutelage of a fantastically designed way of combining different bits and bobs to make super weapons capable of destroying even the most deadly of foes. You can use all the materials that you gather in the wild to create weapons and armour that can be specifically catered to your next boss-level opponent. For example, if you know that you'll be taking on a dragon with a weakness to frost and an invulnerability to fire, then you can make weapons that possess extra frost damage and armour that has resistance to the flames.

Using these tactics against high level opponents is quite satisfying, all the more so because the graphics have seen a substantial upgrade. The Xbox 360 does sometimes struggle and lurch under the weight of the improvements but on Xbox One this is truly a gorgeous looking title. On a superficial level, there isn't much which is off-putting or contradictory to the level that Bioware have set themselves. Wildlife acts and reacts naturally dependant on the player's motivations, the backdrops seem less 'wooden' than ever before and the subtle nuances of gusts of winds changing direction when you're out gallivanting in arid deserts is highly appropriate. Unfortunately, the same can't be said of the facial and character animation which is stilted and sometimes so outlandishly perplexing that it begs belief. All too often an open mouth will belie the true intentions of what a character is trying to say by remaining open for the duration of a dialogue. It's a shame because everything else thrives under the current game engine.

Where the graphics obviously work however, the space that they make up does not. To many that comment may seem somewhat extraneous but it's a valid concern that has been growing ever since my completion of Inquisition. The world is monumental in scope and is aghast with realness but after the initial glazing of immersion there comes a point when you realise that the grandiosity of the world is subverted and left meaningless because of the soulless vacuity that derives from just the blandest of journeys. Put simply, there reaches a point when the veneer is lifted and all you're left with is a map full of the 'unfilling'. No longer is a map a bastion of poignancy and elemental beauty but simply a field designed to take you from one depressingly unappealing point of interest to another. Perhaps this is indicative of more than just Dragon Age: Inquisition, or maybe I'm being too harsh on an otherwise good game, but when you come away from any videogame feeling physically drained, and not for the right reasons then terms like 'soulless' and 'draining' seem applicable. This builds up to the point where the game becomes a battle for survival; Inquisition, however, no longer remains a battle for survival in the sense of keeping your character alive, but an internal battle to make it to the end of the game.

Fortunately Bioware has an arsenal of personable characters to inhabit the world and make it less bland, right? Right? When you have playable and interactive characters, then it's inevitably a subjective affair, yet it cannot be denied that this bunch of miscreants accompanying The Inquisitor was a disappointing bunch. They simply had none of the appeal of previous games - with the odd exception - and returning characters like everyone's favourite sarcastically-inclined dwarf felt criminally underplayed and undervalued. There was no favourite character. They were either frustratingly annoying (Vivienne), not relatable enough, even relatively, (Cole/Solas) or simply too bland and/or archetypal. Admittedly, Sera, did bring some much needed brilliant idiocy through her antics but caring about one character out of the dozen is criminal. It's all well and good to implement a diverse bunch of races and sexes but unless you allow them interesting personalities to fill the world with then it's incredibly disappointing given that many people will play with relationships as their primary agenda.

The question therefore becomes one of balancing out these positives and negatives. Does a lacking side-army of friends and foes, and a sense of hollowness throughout the game, counter-act the drastic improvements to graphics and gameplay mechanics. Well, ultimately no. This is not a bad game, just one that I find myself pontificating over its overall value. Dragon Age: Inquisition is by no means an outright classic - it has far too many overriding issues for that - however it certainly provides much enjoyment through the world Inquisition resides in and its occasional dip into gesticulative political attempts.

Whilst Dragon Age: Inquisition doesn't reach the heady heights of Dragon Age: Origins it is definitely a worthwhile addition to a franchise that continues to enrapture anyone with a propensity for an almost perpetual fantastical adventure.

Jonny is a freelance entertainment journalist and critic. He enjoys long strolls along the beach and picturesque mountainhikes, but only as playable characters in a videogame. Read more of his videogame-infused opinions at pixelsinthemyst